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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174501">Death by Sex</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattepinkallshades/pseuds/mattepinkallshades'>mattepinkallshades</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>RuPaul's Drag Race RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Friends to Lovers, Sickfic, of scary movies and sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:33:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,064</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25174501</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattepinkallshades/pseuds/mattepinkallshades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Katya loves scary movies as much as Trixie and when her friend no-shows for a movie date, she finds her sick at home and with so many needs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>83</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Death by Sex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Reposting for the fuck rhombus and anyone who missed this one. And most of all Conny.</p><p>Note this was written pre-pandemic and is in no way related at all, but seriously we all deserve some fucking joy right now so here's a little.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Scary movies never meant anything special to Katya until she could watch them with Trixie wrapped around her. </p><p>“Reserved! Sorry, I’m holding all these seats for me and a friend, I mean you could sit with us but trust me it will be super annoying for you. Thank you, sorry again!” </p><p>Katya arrived early to rope off a VIP box for her and Trixie and she isn’t going to let random straight people sit wherever they want like they always do without even realizing. She says it’s because they act messy by talking, screaming (not only at the scary parts), and dropping popcorn, but she knows full well that one of these days something will happen that they’ll want privacy for. Something will come of Trixie’s fingertips gripping her bicep and winding their way into her hair to pull at it and cover her eyes with it. Katya put her hair in two braids this afternoon just so Trixie can grab one and rub her face in it to hide from the creature or apparition about to reveal itself on-screen. </p><p>Her phone has a signal and no messages have come through from Trixie so she must be running late. There’s something about her that makes Katya so nervous she’ll not show up, though it may just be her tightly packed calendar that seems like it must implode every now and then. But Trixie never implodes, and her schedule of work, shows, and social engagements runs perfectly with no gaps or delays. It’s exhausting when she asks Katya what she’s been up to, because no matter what she can come up with, Trixie has been up to five times more. </p><p>These movie dates alternately make Katya feel special and important or like a filler. Nothing Trixie does is to blame. It’s just that Katya needs blank spots in her time and she knows Trixie allows none. Sometimes she feels like a means to an end. One day, Katya could get up the courage to say she’s busy at one of their standing times, or that she can’t fit in an extra movie whenever Trixie asks. She totally could. But if she wobbles in the slightest when Trixie asks if she’s available, Trixie’s eyes narrow and her face tips, her fist bounces on her hip, and even if they aren’t face to face Katya can see it and caves. </p><p>Two more couples try to wedge into the space Katya has cordoned off and it’s obnoxious. She got there early enough to get seats all the way at the back. She isn’t marking the middle rows as her territory, and they always see movies in the middle of the week to reduce the chance of a sold-out show. It’s unspoken but Trixie clearly agrees with her method. </p><p>The previews are well underway so she won’t have to hold this space much longer. But Trixie should also be here by now. Katya replies to a few-hours-old message from someone else to be sure she isn’t missing anything. </p><p>“Katya!” </p><p>Trixie’s whisper is as loud as her speaking voice which is louder than average. She inches her way down the aisle in chunky pumps, knees pointed in and hips flexed out to keep her balance. This is one more reason no one would want to sit near them. Trixie getting to her seat is a whole production of strained facial expressions, screams, and barely preserved dignity when she braces the seats around her to keep herself upright. She’s not graceless. But she wears high heels to go to the movies on a weekday, just like she does to shop for groceries and get her oil changed. That’s another thing that impresses Katya. Trixie drives a tiny mint green Fiat which is so her and which she takes care of meticulously. It's not the car, though. Nothing slips under Trixie’s radar: she never misses a bill payment or passes up the opportunity to make a cheesy or tasteless joke, and she applies enough makeup in the morning that by night time it looks nearly like the average woman’s day makeup. She has things handled and it’s so hot. </p><p>“Is this the spicy cheese? Omg, thank you,” Trixie sings as she selects two chips and dunks them as a pair into the tub of nacho cheese. Her perfume smells like a steamy exfoliating shower, which Katya thinks she may have taken and may be why she was running late. Katya doesn’t like cheese and can’t handle the salty chips, and she thinks what kissing Trixie’s mouth would be like when she’s been eating them. She thinks about what her mouth would be like in the morning when she hasn’t brushed, meeting for lunch when she’s hungry, or when she’s cleaned off all her makeup. Katya would take the last makeup wipe from her and toss it, then lean up on her toes to kiss her slick pink face. In her fantasy a tall girl likes her. </p><p>The movie is very quiet at the start. Trixie brushes the salt off her hands and loops Katya’s arm. She fidgets and makes little tsk sounds, and from the corner of her eye Katya can see her breasts huffing. </p><p>“You okay?” Katya whispers. When she leans in her cheek brushes Trixie’s hair it’s coiffed so wide. A pink vinyl bow clips a small bouffant at the front and it accents her pink denim jacket, which matches her pink denim miniskirt. </p><p>“Your hair,” Trixie answers. “No, it’s not bad, I love it. My feelings are just hurt.” </p><p>Katya laughs silently. “Feelings?” </p><p>“I have feelings.” </p><p>“Oh, I know. You have—you have big feelings.” Katya tries to keep her laugh from breaking through because the main character in the movie technically just experienced their introductory tragedy and it’s not funny at all. </p><p>“I can’t use this.” Trixie takes the ratty end of the braid with her far hand, turning all the way into Katya’s body. She twists it and drags it over her eyes. “No, see it doesn’t work.” </p><p>“You can use the whole braid as an eye mask. I made it more effective. It’s my hair, you psycho.” </p><p>“I need it,” Trixie giggles with utmost sincerity and Katya clenches her thighs to bury the jolt. It’s very unfair of her to giggle ‘I need it’ as though it’s not what anyone with a functioning sex drive would love to hear from her. When she drops Katya’s eye contact, she takes the end she’s still holding and rolls the elastic band off it, puts it in her pink pocket. This signals Katya can’t have it back unless she asks for it and Trixie wants to give it. Katya looks at the movie screen and pulls as much air through her nose as she can while Trixie unbraids her hair. As she unravels it, she fans each hank with her fingers and sends little tingles of ecstasy through Katya’s scalp and ears. Katya has a small, tight sweater on but she crosses her arms because her nipples have gone rock hard. </p><p>“Girl it’s a long backstory, calm down,” Trixie pitches down to the guy who’s complained about her chatter. He’s on a date with his arm around a girl and Katya loves that Trixie not only told him to fuck off but doesn’t care at all about his male hetero privilege. She is the girliest person Katya knows but she doesn’t give a single fuck about making a scene. </p><p>“Maybe he cares,” Katya laughs quietly. Trixie brushes it off with a loud scoff. She has to make herself the center of the universe to push for gigs and also get the optimal stage time. It’s natural that the attitude is consistent in all aspects of her life. As someone Trixie cares about, Katya knows she is a very good person and a greater friend. It’s the rest of the world who doesn’t always see that. But they don’t get to be friends with her. </p><p>This movie connection started when they both lobbied to watch Evil Dead at a friend’s house when others said it was stupid. Both found it scary and they lay huddled together on the floor leaning against the couch right from the opening credits. Their bored friends left them to shriek and held conversations, ate all the food without them. </p><p>Now they see nearly every scary movie together in the theater. In between they make movie dates at each other’s places. They both prefer Trixie’s because she has a better screen and no grumpy elderly neighbors to keep it down for. Still, Trixie insists on coming to Katya’s one out of five times and she always brings something that Katya doesn’t know she’s missing. Like a cute ceramic jar perfect for the breadsticks she always had laying out on in their plastic shell container. </p><p>“I didn’t know this was going to be a sex predator story,” Katya says. The movie is near the halfway mark. She isn’t whispering anymore because the people sitting as close as they would allow have moved away. It’s daytime on a Tuesday, there are enough seats. </p><p>“Do you want to bail?” </p><p>“No. Nah it’s alright, I’m glad the story doesn’t think he’s the hero.” </p><p>“Oh god seriously, remember—” </p><p>“Yep.” </p><p>“That was the worst.” Trixie’s fingers are woven into Katya’s hair and when she screams she holds it up over her face. When she tugs it softly by mistake she apologizes and Katya’s eyes shut like a baby doll’s. </p><p>Twenty minutes later they applaud when the guy gets impaled down his throat. They appreciate the ethos of this film. </p><p>— </p><p>A month later there is a new movie to see, a Spanish one, and Katya texts her to ask if she can get there early to guard seats. It’s weird. She knows Trixie wouldn’t mind doing it at all but she always makes Katya be the one to do it, though it absolutely bothers her some. Trixie doesn’t text her back or even read it and the anxiety begins. Something must have come up that’s distracting her. It could be something that keeps her. </p><p>It isn’t until Katya is popping off aggravation from every pore, sitting alone after the credits have started looking like a fool if not a psycho for insisting her “friend” was coming, that Trixie’s text comes through. </p><p>T: I’m so sorry to do this but I’m seriously sick, can’t even get dressed </p><p>I tried but I can’t make it today [broken hearts] </p><p> </p><p>In no time Katya writes her back with lengthy, stumbling terms of endearment, hugs and kisses, and assurances that it’s fine and she should rest. Once she has sent the last text she settles against crying in her car on the way to Target to buy new sheets. She often sleeps without them at all but Trixie always gives her shit for it when she peeks into her bedroom on her way back from the bathroom. </p><p>T: Thank you [sparkle hearts] </p><p>You would be such a great girlfriend [kiss] </p><p> </p><p>That's that. Katya will definitely cry on the way now. </p><p>When she’s in the turn lane for the shopping plaza, it hits her. Trixie shuffling around her little pastel apartment, sniffling and alone. It would take just twenty quick minutes to drive back there from here, the bougie end of town with the good Target which Katya feels kind of guilty for driving out of her way for but it is better. On the way, there's the juice place Trixie loves and it’s in a random neighborhood Katya never would think to visit if Trixie didn’t drag her there for this one specific place. She doesn’t know how Trixie possesses the time or energy to constantly be filling her world more tightly. </p><p>While at the juice bar waiting behind a majorly extra-important girl who makes a special request with no less than six variations on the menu listing because, you know, she used to work at another location and she knows they <em>can</em> do it and says so with so much saccharine gratitude but it’s intensely obnoxious, Katya thinks how Trixie only sent one kiss emoji. Trixie always sends flurries, thumbing the same one over and over until the line is full, and yet she sent that one on its own, very carefully. Or that’s what it seems like. Trixie could be so sick that even her emoji are suffering. </p><p>As soon as The Important Girl has paid and tries to linger while rearranging her bag, Katya steps forward to occupy the spot at the counter. Bitch, bye, you’re done taking up all this space. This is something Katya knows Trixie will laugh about and she can’t wait to tell her. </p><p>— </p><p>The green Fiat is parked in the lot but when Katya knocks on Trixie’s door, there's no answer. </p><p>K: I’m at your door to check in on you. You home? </p><p> </p><p>After the message is read, Trixie starts to write back but deletes and writes and deletes and on and on. Katya tightens her half ponytail all the way to the top of her head and fluffs out her platinum curls. </p><p>No message comes through but Trixie finally answers the door. Without caring to think why, Katya immediately thinks she looks like she needs to be milked or she’ll explode, like if Katya just pressed a finger to Trixie’s breast, what little she’s wearing would be soaked. </p><p>Her face is swollen and bare, covered in spots from fever and coughing. Her almost white-pink kaftan is tissue-thin and goes down to her ankles. It flows off her shoulders and exposes her chest down to where her cleavage would be if she had a bra on to push up and in. Her chest is shiny and she reeks of eucalyptus so she must have smeared it with Vicks. Her hair is twisted into itself, possibly held with some pins but it’s thick and unwashed enough to be molded. To Katya, she looks like gorgeous shit. Even the round tip of her nose looks bigger and shinier than usual, especially with none of the contouring she does daily to balance it out with makeup. It’s the part of her routine she spends the most time on. Katya had observed enough times to know that. </p><p>“Um ... you’re here. Hi.” </p><p>A little bit, just a tiny little bit of pee squeaks out and Katya clenches her teeth like it will hide the look of terror on her face. Trixie does not want to see her, at all. She played this totally wrong. </p><p>“I just came with juice and to check on you, see if I could do anything,” Katya says, plastering on the hardest and widest smile she has available until it hurts. Then she closes her lips and looks down. Trixie hacks hard and holds her throat because it hurts, so Katya takes her arms and gently pushes her back into the hallway, bringing them both across the threshold. Katya’s been here loads of times but she’s never felt unsure if she was wanted there. She turns Trixie to face forward and walks her with both hands to her couch. The couch arm holds two rows of teacups, some with bag strings stuck to the side and others without. Katya hopes Trixie has taken medicine as well and asks her, then asks if there’s something else that Katya could run out for. There’s a CVS she can quickly get to and from, she reminds Trixie. </p><p>“Buddy. I’m just tired. And I hurt. Everything my skin touches hurts, s’why I’m wearing this ridiculous thing,” Trixie says, flouncing the wide loose material while slumped nearly on her back, only her head and shoulders leaning on the back of the couch while her feet perch on the end to hold her up. It looks uncomfortable and pathetic. Katya hates when Trixie calls her ‘buddy’. </p><p>“Can I stay awhile and just like ... get you things?” </p><p>“You’ll get sick, too!” Trixie holds in a cough and it looks like she’ll hurl. </p><p>“I don’t, though. I never do. I mean it, yep, I have some kind of nuclear immune system.” Trixie opens her mouth to protest further but coughs and gags so hard that Katya has to help her lean forward so her neck doesn’t snap from the strain. Then she starts to cry. Her face is magenta and it’s not cute at all. </p><p>“I haven’t been this sick in years. I could kill whatever motherfucker breathed this into me, it could be a child and I still—” She starts coughing when she tries to take a breath. </p><p>“That was Jesus punishing you, Sally.” </p><p>“Shut up. Or like ... they didn’t breathe it but they left their plague cooties behind on something I then licked.” </p><p>“Also why I don’t get sick, I don’t lick the merchandise at Hot Topic,” Katya grins. She wants to stay so badly but Trixie seems determined not to let Katya witness the humanity of her corporeal form. “You said I would make a great girlfriend. Sounds like you need to be treated like you have one today. I mean do you really want to confront your singleness when you’re clearly about to die?” </p><p>Trixie doesn’t answer. But she drops into Katya’s lap and her skin is hot through her clothes and, seconds later, through Katya’s. Katya wraps her hand around her forehead and whimpers sympathetically. She checks when she can next have some Tylenol for the fever. </p><p>“But only give it to me if I really need it. I want the fever to do its job. Only if my whining is too much to bear.” </p><p>“Sure, baby.” Katya doesn’t give a shit about the fever ‘doing its job’ when all it’s doing at the moment is making Trixie miserable. She sets an alarm on her phone for two hours from now which is when Trixie can have more. </p><p>With Trixie’s enormous hot head in her lap, Katya smothers her to reach for the remote and smiles at her whining. They spin through her video library and Netflix, then argue over whether to watch “Below Deck” together. Katya hasn’t seen it and Trixie worries it will make her look stupid if Katya watches it now. She’s never experienced self-conscious Trixie before. Before making a decision, Katya picks up the Vicks tub with a pink lid. She’s only seen it with a dark lid, definitely not pink. Upon closer inspection, it’s the baby formulation of the cream. </p><p>She holds it out so Trixie can see. </p><p>“Tell me the absolute truth. Did you pick this because it has a pink lid, or because it literally says ‘baby’ on it?” </p><p>“I don’t have to tell you any truth. I’m sick . Bitch,” she croaks before backing down another coughing fit. She is trying to dominate the virus that is inside her body. Trixie is a relentless tyrant topped only by pink bows and bump-its. Clearly she is a hard bottom, though, and Katya decided to </p><p>take a break from dating six months ago when she found it had become impossible to thrust into someone else without imagining them being her. </p><p>— </p><p>“The urgent care nurse said you can come in but it’s likely the flu,” Katya says in a teacherly, chipper voice, “unless it turns into pneumonia—” </p><p>“Ughnnnn.” </p><p>“—and she encouraged you to get a flu shot in a few weeks.” Katya does her best to suppress the laugh straining to run free at how pathetic Trixie is acting. </p><p>“Put a movie on. I can’t take emotional stress,” Trixie rumbles. On screen the second and third stew are battling over who should do the ironing. One is an only child with an MBA who feels it’s all beneath her, the other is a woman with more experience looking to ascend. To Katya, she would take ironing in the ship’s bowels over facing the guests up top any day but she guesses that without an MBA she just doesn’t get it. </p><p>They settle on <em>Silence of the Lambs</em> because they know it inside and out. </p><p>Trixie moans with every exhale and it makes her face vibrate in Katya’s lap. With moans. In her lap, with her hot fevered skin. Moans with an occasional ‘unh’ or ‘ow’ thrown in just to stiffen Katya’s clit that much more. </p><p>“I can only half control it and it feels good, I’m sorry,” she whimpers. </p><p>“No, it’s not. I mean it’s fine, it’s not something to apologize for.” Katya covers her mouth with her fist and bites her own palm below her thumb. It’s very possible she’s been pulsing her hips without being aware of it. She drops her hand to Trixie’s hair and untwists it from its knot. As she pulls her fingers through it a few strands at a time, Trixie’s eyes close. “Maybe this’ll help, baby.” </p><p>Even saying that makes Katya strain harder to maintain control. </p><p>"This was released for Valentine's Day as an anti-date film for people to see if they didn't have one. There was something slated for a Halloween release the year before. They didn't want two films to compete." </p><p>"Mm. Mmmm." That's all Trixie says in response but she wraps her arms around Katya’s leg. Thankfully Katya is in jeans but she’s so wet now she’s sure Trixie can smell it. If she can smell the unmistakable sweetness of freshly wet pussy, then Trixie can too. It could be Trixie, for all Katya knows. She is wearing practically nothing. </p><p>Before saying something, Katya licks her lips. But as soon as her upper body dips to inhale, Trixie speaks. </p><p>“I need to brush my teeth.” <em>To get the fog of come out of your mouth, sure</em>. </p><p>Reluctantly, Katya takes Trixie's shoulders and turns her upright. She’s a little dizzy so Katya has her take a few deep breaths. Trixie coughs violently from the extra air. Katya's attempt to keep Trixie close for a few extra seconds so she can finally make her move—she was never going to kiss her, just tell her—backfired. </p><p>The bathroom door stays open and Trixie walks into her bedroom with her toothbrush in her mouth. She rustles around in a smooth-closing drawer (Katya notices because her own drawers are clunky and require muscle) and Katya thinks she hears the bed creak but doesn’t look over, not wanting to get caught. Printed illustrations of girls with fluffy curls in roller skates and tiny shorts, heart-shaped glasses and tube tops form a large collage on the hallway wall. Trixie has stenciled soft, pale orange and pink peaches as a background for them. It’s possible Trixie had a friend do it but Katya easily pictures her feeling motivated on a free afternoon she rarely has, deciding to pick up the paints, cut out the shapes from cereal boxes, and stamp them on the wall with a paper towel. </p><p>As soon as Trixie emerges she quickly pads back into her bathroom and closes the door. Katya starts composing a text saying she’ll be back in five minutes so she can run to her car, jerk it, and blame her absence on a cigarette craving she couldn’t resist. She quit smoking six months ago, along with fucking other women. Women other than the one she isn’t fucking. </p><p>“Kat? Could you come here?” <em>Busted</em>. </p><p>She deletes her message and trots to the bathroom door, pumping her arms and blowing out hard to release some energy. It’s a great time to feel painfully awkward, right when the movie has revealed that Hannibal is laying in the ambulance with some other guy’s severed face laid over his. </p><p>“I’m not wiping your ass, I have some dignity left, baby.” The door hasn’t been opened so Katya stands before it. “Trix? What’d you do, you dumb bitch?” </p><p>The bathroom door opens with a quick pull and the blood-curdling scream of wood rubbing wood. It doesn’t quite fit the frame right. </p><p>Trixie’s face is less pink. She’s either put on some tinted lotion or she’s patted her skin with a cold wet towel to neutralize the pink. Her skin looks dewy so it could be either. Her mouth is open and although she is taller, her head is tipped down far enough that her eyes are looking up into Katya’s. </p><p>“I can’t open my new floss. My tips are too blunt.” Trixie produces the sealed container of floss, holding it near her chest like a necklace she wants Katya to see.</p><p>“Oh. Sure, let me.” Katya has short natural nails just present enough to pierce a thin sticker and they’re painted a dark high gloss red. She hopes none of it chips but she doesn’t think it matters at this point. Usually, Trixie comments on Katya's nails because it impresses her that she does them herself—Katya's ability to streak paint across her nail impresses Trixie, is Katya so unimpressive that this is what she notices?—but today Trixie has said nothing. </p><p>As she nudges the sticker back, Katya feels a hot puff of minty cool breath on her knuckles and spares a glance to find Trixie watching her fingers. She looks directly at her brown lashes just as Trixie’s hands cup around hers and take the floss. It clatters in the sink. </p><p>“Do you need something?” Katya asks.</p><p>“I changed my sheets.” </p><p>“Baby,” Katya pouts sympathetically. She takes up Trixie’s cold hands and makes a small sympathetic whimper. “I would have done that for you. You tired?” </p><p>“I need to sleep.” </p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>“Yeah.” Trixie swings their arms and looks at her, like a couple waiting in line. “I need you to help me go to sleep.” </p><p>“Oh.” </p><p>“Fuck me until I fall asleep? I know it’s gross and you’ll definitely get sick, too, but I don’t—” </p><p>“Yeah it’s fucking gross, Trixie.” She drops Trixie’s hands and threads her fingers through Trixie's clumps of hair. She can’t get close enough, then she feels heat radiating off Trixie's cheeks and plants a searing kiss to the hollow of one. “You’re sick,” Katya rasps before her lips capture Trixie’s. She pulls herself up to the tips of her toes and squishes into Trixie's nose and lets Trixie’s fever scorch her entire face. </p><p>The bedroom door is open and Katya backs Trixie through it up to the edge of her clean bed with a dusty pink faux fur throw across the bottom. It was very thoughtful of Trixie to change her sheets, she thinks, far more than Katya would do (for anyone but Trixie). It's then that Katya realizes why Trixie is so bothered by the lack of them when Trixie visits her place. Trixie wants to sleep over. Trixie didn’t tidy up her bed for Katya’s sake. It’s for her own needs. Katya takes Trixie's cheeks and kisses her again for it. </p><p>Trixie sits on the faux fur throw and holds her arms halfway up. The effort is meager but Katya accepts it as a green light and reaches down for the scrolls of kaftan bunched up all around Trixie's thighs. When she grabs each side she grazes Trixie's hips with her knuckles, moans a little in her closed mouth at the thought of holding them still to fuck her. If she’s not mistaken, Trixie moans, too, though it sounds a bit like discomfort. The garment lifts over Trixie like it’s on wires in a stage play. </p><p>All of Katya’s clothes are still on when she covers Trixie’s almost nude body chest to chest, hip to hip, foot to foot. Without any instruction or further encouragement, Trixie’s knees spread open. Katya’s splay out so she can grind over Trixie's body with plenty of leverage. </p><p>“Honey, your belt buckle is right between my hips, and the zipper on your hoodie is so cold,” Trixie complains. Her nipples peak with the chill and stark blue veins honeycomb her breasts. Katya plans to center a kiss inside each hexagon of blood coursing way too fast for Trixie’s health. Her hoodie unzips smoothly and Katya works on her belt buckle which is fussy. She’s down to a tank top now. “Your arms are so gorgeous, Kat. Jesus.” As she runs her hands up Katya’s forearms it pushes her tits closer together. </p><p>“I’ve thought about this view,” Katya says with her chin still tucked while she continues to wiggle her stubborn belt buckle. “It was never this good.” </p><p>“Of course it wasn’t. You can’t imagine me.” Katya is pulling her belt through the loops on her jeans when Trixie pushes her hips in the air, rubs her crotch across Katya’s jeans and stomach. She takes a knuckle between her teeth like she wants to say something. “Take my temperature. Tell me how hot my pussy is.” </p><p>“Oh, I hate you,” Katya cackles while she leans down to her and kisses Trixie more deeply. She frames Trixie’s head with her arms, resting her hands at the crown and gently pulling Trixie's very greasy hair. She swirls her tongue around Trixie’s and thrusts once between her legs, jeans still on. The moan it produces pushes her to do it a few more times before looking down at Trixie’s underwear. </p><p>Underneath her, Trixie’s chest rises and falls too fast. </p><p>“Baby,” she resumes, “you’re sure you can handle me fucking you right now? Maybe I should come back in a week or two when you’re in better shape.” </p><p>Trixie breathes deeper and slower to prove she’s up to the task. </p><p>“Don’t you dare,” she says slowly, punctuating each word sharply like the sound of a key in a lock. “I mean, yes, you will be here in a week and in two weeks, I'm sure. But you’re here now." Trixie sniffs. "This isn’t what I planned for at all, but it feels so good ... when I feel so sick.” Trixie wants to say more but she starts to cry. </p><p>“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me, do you? </p><p>“Yeah, I do,” Trixie says with a strained, hoarse voice and a bubble between her lips from her tears. Katya gives her neck the gentlest kisses and drags her hand down her side and up her chest. The skin of Trixie's nipple rolls easily in her fingers. Katya’s hand barely covers half of the globe of her breast. Again, Trixie makes little moans that seem like discomfort and when Katya looks Trixie's face is a grimace. Then Trixie tells her to stop. In a second, Katya pushes her arms straight up. </p><p>“Stop?” she confirms. </p><p>“Ha!” Usually, that would come out as a cackle but with Trixie’s voice rapidly deteriorating it’s more like half honk, half-whisper. “Do you think I’d literally ask you to fuck me and then want you to stop?” </p><p>Katya nods. “I’ve done that. Not literally, I’m not so desperate I’d ask someone to fuck me and usually, I’m fucking them,” she rambles with a creepy old man voice. She catches Trixie's hand midair and shakes it. </p><p>“Stop! I just mean my skin is so achy it’s hurting when you touch it, just ... stop. Don’t bother with foreplay, just stick it in.” </p><p>“Okay. Then take those off,” Katya says. She feels a smile in her eyes but she's too nervous to let it show. They’re parted and drying out as she waits for Trixie’s move. </p><p>Trixie pulls her knees back to her chest flashing a soaked strip between her thighs and her breath stutters while she pushes her underwear down. She hands them over. Katya grips them like a wad of wet tissues, thinks what to do with them since Trixie handed them to her. They’re a fine white mesh material with little flocked dots all over and Katya wishes she’d gotten a better look at them on Trixie's body. She’s about to throw them on the floor with her hoodie and belt but instead rubs the fabric between her fingers. She plants one arm beside Trixie’s ear and pushes the wet crotch of them into her own mouth with her middle finger, sucking it down. Her hair falls past her shoulders and frames Trixie’s face. Katya’s eyelids sink with the taste as she slurps salty come and breathes in the smell. She keeps her eyes locked on Trixie’s as she laps at the gusset seam with her tongue lolling out, even when Trixie whispers ‘Oh my God.’ </p><p>“Trixie,” she finally says, rubbing them on her cheek. “I ate your panties.” She bursts out laughing and Trixie does as well, though hers is clipped. </p><p>“You’re an angel.” </p><p>“You are,” Katya grins down at her and finally takes the full picture of Trixie in. It’s a picture of a girlfriend she’s had for a while, who isn’t trying to be any of the things she is in public. It’s also a picture of round shoulders, a soft smooth belly, and hips made to crash-land in. Trixie hasn’t worn a bra today so there aren’t any marks in her skin and her breasts look like they’ve never been contained. “God, Trix. I know you feel like shit. And you do look a little like shit from here up,” she tells her, folding her hands under her chin while Trixie thumps Katya's thigh with her heel. “But the parts I’ve never seen before? In this daylight?” she adds, glancing briefly to the window with late afternoon sun pouring in. </p><p>“Honey. Awww,” Trixie coos and Katya grabs her face to shut her up with another kiss. Like before, Katya rolls her hips into her, this time grabbing her waist and working up more of a rhythm. Trixie ruts shamelessly over the thick zipper of Katya’s jeans, but Katya wants to be the one giving her that satisfaction. </p><p>“What do you want me to do?" Katya asks. "Just so you know, we can totally have a do-over another time, so don’t overthink it.” Trixie huffs a small laugh that indicates she knows herself. </p><p>“I don’t have a harness for you and it’s what I really want. Fuck, Katya, I want it so bad.” Katya is already picking through Trixie's bedside dresser, finding a plethora of options. “Take whatever one you want. No, actually I want this one,” Trixie quickly and rightly says to correct herself. Katya would have been disturbed if Trixie let her choose. Trixie Mattel doesn’t ask for anything. She demands what she needs. What she needs this afternoon is a clear silicone dildo with little 3D pink and red hearts embedded in it. </p><p>“I cannot imagine anyone else but you using it. This is your dick.” </p><p>Trixie grins and tries to agree but coughs into her fist. Katya says she'll make her a fresh cup of tea. They aren’t in a rush. The flu might make everything a little rotten but it’s made Trixie cancel her life for the next few days. Katya knows they may never have this opportunity again. </p><p>--</p><p>Once Trixie is settled against her headboard with her tea, with Katya perched beside her stroking her hair leaving curled wakes behind every stroke, Katya puts her other hand on Trixie’s thigh with a squeeze and Trixie drops them open for her, rests her head on her shoulder. It all happens so wordlessly and effortlessly in one fluid motion. Katya traces circles inside Trixie's thigh and brushes across her pubic hair, then slips between her labia and pulls along each lip, long and full, while Trixie digs her head into her shoulder. </p><p>“Oh, you fucking miracle, where have you been,” Trixie moans and it makes Katya want to recommend herself as Trixie’s lifetime pussy masseuse. Her fingers get wet and wrinkled and she wedges the tips of them to scoop enough come into her mouth that she can kiss it into Trixie’s. If Trixie wasn’t delirious from her fever before, she is from something else now. </p><p>“This,” Trixie says suddenly and takes up the dildo that got tossed to the middle of the bed, “is your dick.” Katya laughs so hard she has her own coughing fit which she gets fewer of since quitting cigarettes for Trixie, though Trixie never asked her to. </p><p>But when she lubes it and touches it to Trixie’s entrance, Trixie winces. </p><p>“Cold! It’s so cold, it’s awful.” </p><p>“Well ... I can run it under hot water, probably a good idea anyway.” </p><p>“It’ll take too long.” Katya kneels between her legs and they try sliding in just the head to see how long it takes to heat up inside her. Trixie begs her to stop and Katya pops it out, watching her folds shrivel shut. “It feels freezing, the hotter my skin is the colder things feel,” she says, dragging out the -ee with a whine. </p><p>“I’m sorry baby.” </p><p>“No, no, no, honey, fuck me with your fingers, please. Like before, oh fuck yes.” Katya stays kneeling. She feels nothing but heat around her finger and stuffs her as full as she can, fast. “That’s good. You feel warm. Is my pussy hotter than you ever dreamed about?” </p><p>Katya laughs and her clit throbs from rocking inside her jeans as she thrusts. She groans loud because she knows Trixie can’t and takes her hand out to flex it for a few seconds. Trixie reaches for her hand, still propped up with pillows on her headboard. </p><p>“Girl—I wish I had a warm cock for you, feel how hot you are inside. Fuck. My shaft—slides in and out, my balls slap your hot pussy lips,” Katya babbles as Trixie sucks Katya's middle three fingers and drools around them. “Oh God. Oh God!” Katya’s voice gets shrill and she lowers it to something respectable, as close as she can get. The dildo sits wet on Trixie’s dresser. </p><p>Katya takes her hand out of Trixie’s mouth and the suction sprays spit over Trixie’s chest. She complains about the chill it gives her. Katya hears but doesn’t apologize, just takes the dildo and puts it to Trixie’s chin. Trixie half-smiles and breathes hard, pushes Katya’s arm up to slide it past her lips as she opens wider. Her brow reflexively crumples with the effort. Her eyes glisten and drop low as she sucks it back and lets it go over and over, holding the shaft around Katya’s fingers. Katya takes her hand away and watches, holding herself up by leaning her palms on her knees. She watches in silence as Trixie sucks. </p><p>In the living room where the movie was left playing, Clarice fires over and over, breaking a window and shedding light so she can see she shot the killer in total darkness. </p><p>The audio makes Trixie smile around the hearts sliding in and out of her mouth and Katya cracks, just a little, but then makes a stern face to prevent them from losing the moment entirely. </p><p>“If it were mine, I’d fill you with come so fucking hot it puts you in a coma,” Katya murmurs. She knows Trixie could laugh at her, and she would absolutely be right to. Instead Trixie moans and slides down, lifting her hips up into Katya’s lap. She starts to choke on the dildo and coughs so hard Katya thinks it might bring up blood. But Trixie regains control and puts it back in her mouth. “You’re a trooper, baby. You deserve this.” </p><p>Katya could make her come now with very little. Trixie is red and shiny like a rose dipped in honey. Instead, Katya decides to match Trixie’s effort, knowing they’ll take a very long nap right after. She slides two fingers back in and thumbs circles around her clit. With hard, fast pressure there, Trixie squeezes her eyes shut and tries to keep her mouth full but spits the dildo out so she can moan brokenly with it laying on her chest, still in her tight grip. Trixie flicks her hips hard, her pussy tight around Katya’s hand, and finally comes with a shaking scream, a total mess head to thighs with lube, spit, and come scattered across her skin in shimmery patches. Just when Katya thinks it would have been really cute if she squirted a little, too, Trixie shudders once more and shoots a small spray against Katya’s jeans. </p><p>“You fucking angel, oh my God. You couldn’t be any hotter. You couldn’t be. Oh baby,” Katya praises in disbelief. </p><p>Just as Katya expected, they lay side by side and fall asleep. Katya keeps her clothes on, still, but rests on Trixie’s torso breathing in all they’ve done together. </p><p>— </p><p>Trixie sleeps longer, naturally, so Katya gets herself up and makes something in the kitchen she thinks Trixie might trust her enough to eat. Trixie mostly eats out and orders but she has things in her fridge to snack on if she has to. </p><p>Waiting for her to stir, Katya arranges a collage of the Vicks tub, empty tea cups, and cough medicine bottle and posts a picture with the caption “She is a sick baby. Please DND for a few days.” </p><p>It’s a solid hour before Trixie rouses, about 8 pm. She emerges in a huge hooded bathrobe with her hair twisted back again, sits cross-legged on the couch next to Katya. After Katya assures Trixie she doesn’t want anything in return, Trixie assures <em>her</em> there are lots of things she needs to do to Katya, once she feels better. </p><p>They put something on but watch in silence. It’s not awkward at all. It feels totally right and then blissful when Trixie takes a handful of Katya’s hair from her shoulder and holds it against her face, leans the icky hand-hair-face sandwich against Katya’s upper arm. Katya winces with pleasure recalling how Trixie said her arms are so hot. She can’t wait to find out all the other things Trixie likes about her and hasn’t yet said. </p><p>“Why do I always have to get there first?” Katya eventually asks. “To the theater.” </p><p>Trixie turns her tired, splotchy face and leans her elbow on the back of the couch, spins Katya’s puffy blonde hair into a twist in her fingers. </p><p>“Cause I like when you watch me walk in, it’s hot.” </p><p>“Hot!” Katya laughs. “How I watch you or how you walk in?” </p><p>“How I walk in. I’ve been practicing for years. You’re just a natural loser, it takes you no effort to drool over me when you see me.” Katya drops her jaw as though she’s mortally wounded, even though she is the happiest loser to ever exist. “But it is really cute.” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! I'm on tumblr at <a href="https://mattepinkallshades.tumblr.com/">mattepinkallshades</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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